The Desert Highway Hotel
by DeanCasLover22
Summary: It was supposed to be a typical over night stay at an old hotel, on their way to investigate a possible werewolf hunt. Unfortunately, Sam and Dean's luck fails once again, and they find themselves trapped in the real version of the Hotel California. Hunt fic
1. The Woman In The Red Dress

**A/N: This story was inspired by the song "Hotel California" by The Eagles. If you listen to the song you may catch some of the references I make to it as the story progresses, including some of the chapter titles. **

**A/N 2: This is my first SPN fanfic with a true horror element to it, so let me know how I did. If I did good, it should be at least somewhat creepy. I wanted it to feel like an actual Supernatural episode. Hopefully, that's how it turns out. **

* * *

_Prologue: "The Woman In The Red Dress"_**  
**

* * *

Lucas Reed had never intended to make any stops on his long trip back home, but his heavy eyes forced him to search for a hotel along the long desert highway as the sun dipped below the horizon.

The first hotel he saw was the first he turned towards, slowing his small navy blue car as it rolled down the dirt road leading to the front of the building and a large sign with the name "Desert Highway Hotel" craved into it.

The sign looked cleaner then the exterior of the two-story hotel, that had to have been built over several decades ago, but Lucas wasn't fussy. A bed was a bed at this point.

As his car moved closer and closer to the hotel, a glimmer out of the corner of his eye caught Lucas's attention.

His tired eyes widened when he realized he was looking at a woman on the doorstep of the hotel, and she was starring back at him.

Lucas caught his breath. The woman on the doorstep was downright stunning. At five feet six, not including the two-inch high heels she was wearing, the woman might have as well come right out of his dreams.

In the last light of day, Lucas could see her with a surprising amount of clarity. The woman wore a blood red dress that sparkled when it moved, because of the flecks of gold on its mesh. Her dark brown hair curled loosely over her shoulders, and fell to her middle back, where she curved inward, towards her center. It was a beautiful contrast to her attire and her pale, but not too pale, face.

She held a lit candlestick with both her hands and the yellow-orange flame swayed with the little breeze there was. As the flame moved, it licked at the woman's delicate fingers. They were dangerously close to getting singed.

As Lucas neared the hotel entrance, his car's headlights flashed the woman and he caught a glimpse of the golden nameplate attached to her shirt. On it, the name _Evelyn _was written in black.

"Evelyn," Lucas whispered.

The woman smiled, as if she had heard him say her name. She waved as he passed in his car and he waved back before parking in the closest space possible.

As Lucas strolled towards the hotel doors, he expected the woman to be waiting to lead him through, as she was obviously an employee of the hotel, but she wasn't there.

Lucas glanced at his surroundings, wondering where she could have gone, before shrugging his shoulders and stepping into the hotel lobby.

He walked up to the front desk, where a woman in a black skirt greeted him. "Welcome to the Desert Highway Hotel. May I help you?"

Her name was Gwen. She was a blonde and her face was a stark contrast to Evelyn's. She was pretty, but Lucas's mind was still lingering on his mental image of Evelyn on the porch, on her perfection.

"Sir," Gwen called out, waking Lucas from his thoughts.

He shook his head. "I just want a single," he told her.

Gwen nodded and tapped on the keyboard connected to the computer beside her.

As she did, Lucas scanned the lobby, seeing several old-fashioned chairs and couches, but there was no sign of the woman in the red dress.

"I'm just curious," Lucas began as he turned back to face Gwen.

She glanced up at him. "What?"

"Who was the woman in the red dress I saw when I drove up?"

Gwen frowned. "I don't know who you're talking about. It's going to be seventy-five for the room."

"You must," Lucas insisted as he handed her the money. "She was wearing a nameplate; it said Evelyn on it."

Gwen shook her head. "I'm sorry. There is no one employed here with the name Evelyn. In fact, I'm the only female employee that works here besides the maid, who only comes here in the morning, and her name isn't Evelyn either."

She grabbed a key off the wall and gave it to Lucas. "Room 203. It's just up the stairs. Have a nice day."

"Thanks," Lucas mumbled.

He hesitated for a moment, then headed for the red carpet covered stairway.

* * *

After he had found his room and put the backpack he'd carried on his shoulder from the car onto the floor, Lucas wandered downstairs. He wasn't quite ready to settle down into bed. Not after seeing Evelyn.

He found a room similar in appearance to the lobby except for the addition of a bar at the back center of the room.

Lucas approached the bar and sat down on one of its six dark wooden stools and the old man with white hair behind the bar gave him a friendly smile. "What will it be?"

Lucas silently debated for a few seconds. "Just a beer," he decided.

The old man nodded and passed him a mug of beer. "That's eight."

Lucas gave him eight dollars from his wallet and gulped down a quarter of the liquor before lowering the mug onto the bar.

"Rough night?" the old man guessed.

"Nah," Lucas said. "Just a weird one, and I'm over tired."

"Long drive?" the old man asked.

"Yeah," Lucas answered.

The old man kept his eyes on him. "There's something bothering you."

Lucas laughed. "I don't need bartender therapy."

"What do you need?" the old man inquired.

Lucas shrugged. "Nothing, just some rest..."

The old man waited to hear the ending.

"Do you know who Evelyn is?" Lucas quizzed.

The old man's expression turned grim.

"I saw her at the door; she was wearing a red dress," Lucas continued.

The old man said nothing.

"What is it?" Lucas asked.

"Evelyn is one of the ghosts that haunt this place," the old man told him. "I haven't seen her in ages."

He looked sad.

Lucas gawked at him. "You can't be serious."

"Believe it whether you want to or not," the old man sighed, pouring himself a shot and drinking up.

"Whatever old man," Lucas muttered.

He took a few more long gulps of his beer and slid it away from him before leaving the room.

"What a wacko," Lucas mumbled as he climbed the stairs.

In the bar room, the old man shook his head. "Evelyn, please don't help him."

* * *

Later that night Lucas was sleeping in his room when a thud from the roof startled him awake.

He lowered his head back down to his pillow and craned his neck to see the alarm clock on the stand next to him. It shined red numbers at him.

It was just after one in the morning. Way too early to get up and hit the road. Especially since he was still sleepy.

Lucas rolled over in bed and sighed.

His eyes were drooping again when a high-pitched scream from down the hall made him sit up straight in bed.

Lucas listened for any other sounds but there was none. He wondered if the scream was in his head. Why else would everything be quiet after a scream like that? Wouldn't other people be running outside, wondering what had just happened?

Just in case he wasn't imagining things, Lucas swung his legs over the bed, and was about to stand when he heard someone running down the hall. _Thump, thump, thump_. Quick, but rhythmic.

Lucas narrowed his eyes and approached the door to peek out of his room.

It was dim in the hallway, the lights were out, and nobody was in sight.

_Strange_, Lucas thought.

Then there was a giggle from behind him. Lucas spun around and cold hit his body like a wall. He shivered and breathed out warm air.

"Anyone out here?" Lucas called out, turning to put the stairway behind his back.

He gapped as a shadow took a few steps towards him.

As soon as he could, Lucas moved his feet and bolted in the direction of the stairs, and made his way down it.

Once on the first floor he raced for the front entrance, but the door was locked.

Lucas glanced over his shoulder. He couldn't see the shadow anymore, but the lamp that was knocked over was the only sign he needed of its prescience.

Lucas turned to tug on the doorknob in vain, and as he shook it, out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of red in the moonlight that shined into the area near the front desk.

Lucas spun to face Evelyn. "Help me!" he shouted at her. "Please!"

Evelyn's gaze switched back and forth between him and the invisible monster approaching.

"It's okay." She smiled reassuringly. "It won't hurt...much. And then you can stay with us forever."

Lucas's heart thudded in his chest even faster as the shock of her words mixed with his already present terror.

He craned his neck, then froze in place, unable to move, as the shadow appeared once more, this time just inches away from him.

It was tall, over eight feet. Lucas felt eyes on him, but couldn't see them in the nothingness of it.

When the shadow fully stretched out, it bore down on him, and Lucas screamed as his world turned completely black.


	2. Truth In An Old Man's Tales

_Chapter 1: "Truth In An Old Man's Tales"_

* * *

One Month Later...

"Well, this is a step up," Dean noted as he and Sam got out of the Impala.

Sam studied the hotel before them. "I sure hope so. A hotel simply called 'Desert Highway Hotel' isn't usually promising though."

"Either way, tomorrow we're heading out," Dean said as they walked over to the back of the car. "Have to make it to San Diego before the full moon."

Sam nodded in agreement and grabbed his bag when Dean opened the trunk.

Once they were inside, they headed directly to the front desk.

"Hello," Gwen greeted them.

Dean smiled. "Hi, we'd like a room for the night."

Gwen did a search of the wall of keys. "Room 206 is available. It has two queens."

"Perfect," Dean said, passing her a credit card.

She scanned it through the computer and gave it back to him with the room key. "Enjoy your stay Mr. Smith."

"Will do," Dean replied, flashing teeth.

Gwen nodded, tucked a strand of hair back behind her ear, then got to work on the computer.

Sam grinned as he and Dean walked away and climbed the stairs. "Charms not working?"

"Shut up."

* * *

"So the vics all were cousins to each other?" Dean quizzed.

"Brent and Brice were, and Julie was their second cousin," Sam confirmed.

"I wonder what they did to piss of a werewolf," Dean mused, studying the papers they had taped to the hotel wall.

Sam shrugged. "It's not anything on file. They're clean. Brent had a speeding ticket a year ago, but that is all that I could find."

"Doesn't mean nothing happened," Dean said.

Sam agreed. They both knew how often police missed things.

"I'm going to go check if they have coffee down...Sam do you here that?" Dean inquired. "I think the EMF is going off."

Sam dug into the duffel bag containing their weapons and sure enough, when he pulled the EMF reader out, it was lit up like a Christmas tree, making that all too familiar whining sound.

"What the...," Sam began, but was cut off by the flickering lights in their room followed by a scream.

He and Dean bolted out of their room, into the hallway, as a door slammed shut. Taking a glance around they spotted a woman in her mid-twenties, sliding down against the wall opposite of her room. She was pale and it was obvious something had happened.

Sam approached her, Dean close behind.

"Are you alright?" Sam asked the woman.

She shook her head.

"What happened?" Dean prompted her. "Did you see something?"

A man was strolling down the hall towards them. His nameplate labeled him as Joseph, the manager and owner of the hotel.

"What the hell is going on here?" he inquired, sounding more annoyed than worried.

"I saw something," the woman murmured, shaking.

"Can you be more specific?" Joseph huffed.

The woman bit her lip. "You won't believe me."

"We're listening," Dean promised her.

"I was taking a shower and noticed that the water was turning pink," the woman said. "It was the strangest thing. My hair went up on its ends. I quickly got out and dressed. As I was dressing..."

"What?" Sam questioned.

The woman looked up. "I thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I spun round and it was there. A hazy looking image of a woman. I swear, I'm not crazy! I saw it!" she rushed.

"I do believe you think you saw something, miss." Joseph snorted. "And I'm also pretty sure I saw you at the bar with your boyfriend earlier."

"My name's Tiffany," the woman said. "And I'm not drunk, if that's what you're implying. I only had one beer."

"Whatever," Joseph said. "Just keep it down, okay? Around this time people start going to bed and I don't want to hear any complaints."

He walked away, and Tiffany glanced up at Sam and Dean. "You can go back to your rooms if you want."

"We want to help," Sam told her.

"So you believe me?" Tiffany asked.

"We do," Sam replied. "We can help."

Tiffany stared at him. "How?"

"From what you explained, it sounds like there may be a spirit in your room," Dean said. "And we...know how to deal with them."

"So what?" Tiffany cocked an eyebrow. "You like the _Ghostbusters_ or something?"

"Something like that," Dean answered.

"Can you let us into your room so we can look around?" Sam inquired.

Tiffany nodded slowly, and Sam helped her up onto her feet.

Tiffany approached her door across the hall and unlocked it. She held it open for the Winchesters to pass through, but did not follow them in. Instead she continued to stand in the doorway, preventing the heavy door from closing.

Sam pulled the EMF reader out of his jacket and began scanning the room with it. The whining sound and lights were constant.

"Strange," Dean said.

"It's stronger along the walls," Sam noted.

"Wires?" Dean quizzed.

"Maybe," Sam replied.

"What is that?" Tiffany asked, pointing to the EMF reader.

Sam explained.

"Neat," Tiffany said. "So way is it lighting up like that constantly? Is the ghost here?"

"Currently, everything seems clear," Dean told her. "The wires in the wall may be the source."

"Tiffany," Sam paused, "Do you know if you're sensitive to EMF?"

Tiffany frowned. "Not that I know of. Why?"

"Sometimes high EMF areas cause hallucinations," Dean said.

Tiffany straitened in the doorway. "I did not imagine that."

"We're not saying that," Sam rushed. "We've seen enough ghosts to know more often than not people are right about what they saw."

"But until the ghost shows up again, we can't do much," Dean admitted.

Tiffany looked frightened again. "So you're not going to do anything?"

"Here take this," Sam said, passing her a can of salt. "Put a line along the door and windows; it'll stop ghosts from entering your room."

"And if you see or hear anything, we're just down the hall," Dean told her. "Just yell out for Sam and Dean."

Tiffany nodded. "Okay."

"You going to be alright alone?" Sam asked.

"I'm here with my boyfriend, Carlos," Tiffany answered. "He should be coming back soon, but thanks."

Sam and Dean nodded and were about to leave when Tiffany said, "Maybe the bartender could help."

"What?" Dean was confused.

"The bartender," Tiffany repeated. "Carlos and I thought the old man was crazy, but he mentioned the place was haunted. I was so freaked out, I almost forgot to tell you."

"We'll talk with him in the morning," Dean promised.

"Okay, goodnight." Tiffany waved.

Dean and Sam walked away.

"Few hours of sleep then we should give this place a sweep," Dean said. "Start off with talking to the old man Tiffany mentioned."

Sam nodded in agreement.


	3. Waking Up To A Nightmare

_Chapter 2: "Waking Up To A Nightmare"_

* * *

Sam and Dean had both been asleep for a few hours when a scream sent them flying onto their feet. They raced into the hallway to see that the lights were out and that a middle-aged man dressed in a suit was hopping up the stairs.

"It's alright everyone; you can all go back to bed," the man said as the other people on the floor stepped out of their rooms. "The lights just short-circuited. We'll get that fixed real soon."

"Who are you?" Dean inquired.

The man turned to him as everyone but he and Sam returned to their rooms. "I'm Joseph Hill, the owner and manager here, so rest assured I'll get everything running normally before morning."

"Why did the lights short-circuit?" Sam quizzed.

Joseph cocked an eyebrow. "The weather, of course."

As if on cue, thunder seemed to shake the building.

Dean and Sam glanced at each other.

"Anyways, I better get to it," Joseph decided.

He walked away, and Dean turned to Sam.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Dean asked.

"It wasn't storming a minute ago," Sam replied.

Dean nodded. "Exactly."

"That doesn't mean anything suspicious is going on though," Sam argued.

"It does in my book," Dean mumbled. "I'm going to go talk to the old man; if the bar is even open this late."

Sam sighed. "Alright. I'll do some research on the history of the hotel."

Dean grinned. "That's my geeky brother."

Sam rolled his eyes, and turned to their room door as Dean made his way downstairs.

As Sam fished for the room's keycard in his shirt pocket, a woman with dark curly hair bolted out of her room and tripped, landing face first into the carpet.

Sam raced to her side. "Are you okay lady?"

She starred up at him. "I need to get out of here!"

"What happened?" Sam questioned her.

"I need to get out of here!" the woman repeated, shouting. Her eyes were wide and it was obvious she was panicking.

"What did you see?" Sam inquired.

"It wants me!" the woman cried. "I need to leave, now. Let me go!"

She shook Sam's hand off her shoulder, but he grabbed her by the sleeve instead of releasing her. "What is it?"

"It was in my room," the woman answered, shaking. "It was horrible. It was nothing but a shadow and...You must think I'm crazy, but I'm telling the truth!"

"Okay, okay." Sam lowered his voice, trying to comfort her. "I'll help you..."

"Marybeth," the woman said.

"Marybeth," Sam repeated.

"Can you get my suitcase out of my room?" Marybeth asked.

"Sure," Sam replied.

"Be careful!" Marybeth warned as Sam approached the door.

He stepped into the room cautiously, his hand grasping the piece of iron rod he had on him.

He glanced around the room as he made his way to the suitcase Marybeth had placed on the floor by her bed. When he reached it he grabbed the suitcase with his free hand and made his way back to Marybeth.

When he was in the hallway again, Marybeth breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh thank God you're alright. And thank you."

She took the suitcase from Sam.

"No problem," he assured her.

Marybeth stared at the stairs.

"Do you want me to walk you to your car?" Sam inquired.

"Would you mind?" Marybeth quizzed, biting her lip.

"No," Sam said.

"I don't know how to thank you for doing all this," Marybeth told him as he took the suitcase back from her.

Sam shrugged. "It's not a big deal."

They made their way downstairs.

"Still," Marybeth said. "Not many people would help a crazy person like me."

She laughed, but it was an empty one.

"I don't think you're crazy," Sam told her. "My brother and I think there's something going on here."

"Are you going to leave too?" Marybeth inquired.

Sam shook his head. "No."

"Well you two are a lot braver than me," Marybeth said.

They reached the front door and Marybeth pushed to open it up, and pushed and pushed. The front door wouldn't budge.

"Why isn't it opening?" Marybeth muttered.

She shivered as a cool breeze swept by them.

Sam froze as his breaths became visible and Marybeth stared back at him.

They spun around to see a stunning woman in a beautiful red dress strolling towards them.

"Welcome to The Desert Highway Hotel," she said sweetly. "Enjoy your stay."


	4. The Captain Sees Spirits Dancing

_Chapter 3: "The Captain Sees Spirits Dancing"_

* * *

Dean got lucky. He arrived at the bar just as the bartender was about to close up.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know the bar closed at this time," Dean said almost casually as the old man glanced up at him.

"Sit," the old man commanded. "I can stay a little longer. You look like you could use a drink."

Dean sat down on one of the bar stools. "I always look that way," he joked, but there was a ring of truth there.

"What'll it be?" the old man asked.

"Whiskey," Dean answered immediately.

The old man turned to pour Dean a glass, then passed it to him, and after the man told Dean the cost, Dean gave him the money for the drink.

As Dean drank in silence, the old man straightened some bottles on the shelf behind him.

"So what's got you up this late?" the old man inquired.

"Ghost stories," Dean replied.

The old man stopped what he was doing. "Oh."

He turned to face Dean. "What have you heard?"

"That this hotel is haunted," Dean said. "That you yourself have been telling people about it."

"You didn't come down for just a drink," the old man guessed.

"Nope," Dean confirmed. "I wanted to hear the story myself, and more. I want the whole story."

The old man shrugged. "Not much to tell."

Dean eyed him.

"You will just think I am a crazy old fool," the old man assumed.

"Try me," Dean said. "I've seen more crazy then you'd ever believe."

The old man cocked an eyebrow and sighed. "Alright, I will tell you."

"Everything?" Dean questioned.

The old man nodded.

"It is a long story though," he warned.

Dean smiled. "I have all night."

The old man leaned against the bar. "When I retired from being a Captain in the Navy, my wife and I moved here from Washington State," he began. "Evelyn wanted to go someplace warmer, wanted to come back to her home state. We were still pretty young, wanted to start a family. We both got a job here. I worked at the bar, as I do now, and she worked at the front desk. We were happy, until it happened."

"What happened?" Dean prompted.

"The owner died," the old man continued. "He fell down the stairs, and hit his head on the last step. The police said it was an accident, but to this day I cannot be sure. Joseph's father was always jealous his brother inherited this hotel when their parents died. When Walter died, Henry took over."

"When did Joseph come to power?" Dean asked.

"Ten years ago," the old answered. "When Henry died of cancer."

"When did the spirits start acting up?" Dean inquired.

"The day after Walter died," the old man told him. "It was small things. The guests would talk about strange noises, flickering lights, the usual claims that start talk. Over time it got worst, to the point a guest was scratched on their back."

The old man paused for a moment before continuing. "Evelyn was terrified. She wanted to leave. But we couldn't find any other job at the time. None that paid as well, at least, so I convinced her that we had to stay."

"And she was killed," Dean guessed.

The old man nodded. "Four nights later a guest coming back from a bar in the next town found her behind the front desk. She was the first, but not the last. Whatever is here has a taste for blood."

"What about Henry and Joseph?" Dean asked. "Have they ever done anything to try to get rid of the ghosts?"

"Henry refused to get help," the old man replied. "It was the 1960's, people weren't very open-minded about this sort of thing. I guessed he just didn't want people talking. I figured he didn't want to lose business. He threatened my job if I told anyone. I couldn't afford to lose it, so I promised not to tell anyone. Who would believe ghosts existed anyway?"

"So what happened after that?" Dean quizzed.

"More deaths," the old man said. "Occasional enough that people shook it off. Then a few years later, in 1964, I saw her..."

Dean straightened up. "Who?"

"My wife," the old man told him. "She was standing on the front steps when I arrived one night from buying more liquor for the bar. She looked exactly how I remembered her. Exactly how she looked the day she died. Red dress, beautiful brown hair... When I got out of the vehicle she was gone. After that, I kept seeing her. Everywhere in the hotel. Sometimes I'd see her more than once a day. But she never got close, and when I tried, she would disappear. When the next death happened, there was a witness."

"What did they say?" Dean inquired.

"He said he saw a woman in a red dress," the old man paused as tears formed in his eyes. "And I knew he meant Evelyn. He thought my Evelyn killed his girlfriend."

"Did he actually see her do it?"

The old man shook his head. "But they had seen her just before he left his girlfriend in their room alone."

"But there had to be another ghost, right?" Dean asked.

"There are many," the old man answered. "Many different ghosts have been seen. Evelyn, the other victims, a black mass, and Walter..."

"Wait," Dean interrupted. "A black mass?"

"Been spotted occasionally for years," the old man said. "Once by a man the day before he committed suicide here, or at least everyone believed it was suicide."

"You didn't?"

"I'd seen and heard too much to assume."

"Did you ever see the black mass?" Dean inquired.

"No," the old man replied. "And before you ask, I haven't seen Evelyn since 1969, and I haven't seen much of the others either. But I know Evelyn's still here. After a time, I figured it out."

"Figured what out?"

"That they're all stuck here," the old man told him grimly. "Every person that has died here. For some reason, they can't move on."

"Have you ever tried to warn people, despite your promise to Henry?" Dean quizzed.

"Once," the old man said. "I spoke to a reporter who was writing an article about the two people who died here once, on the same night. Husband and wife. I told her everything. All the deaths and the strange things that have happened. Including the last night I saw Evelyn."

"What did you see?"

"She was outside," the old man began. "In the backyard, with several other spirits. It was late, past midnight, but there was a full moon, so I could see them all. I swear...they were dancing..."

Dean starred at him.

The old man sighed. "I know that look. Maybe I am crazy, but I'm not lying."

"No, it's not that," Dean said. "It's just, it sounds just like..."

"Hotel California?"

Dean nodded.

"Yeah," the old man agreed. "I wouldn't be surprised if The Eagles had read the article. It's so close to the truth."

Dean took a sip of whiskey from the glass in his hand, and for a moment, he and the bartender were quiet.

There was so much to take in, but no time to do so, because as soon as Dean put down the glass, Sam and a woman charged into the room.

"What's going on?" Dean asked, standing up.

"We're stuck," Sam gasped, out of breath from running. "We're locked in, and it's not because of a lock. There was a ghost."

"Let me guess," Dean said dryly. "You saw a woman in a red dress?"

"Have you seen her too?" the woman with Sam inquired.

Dean glanced at the old man, then back to Sam and the woman with him. "No, just a lucky guess."


	5. The Feast Begins

_Chapter 4: "The Feast Begins"_

* * *

Dean gave Sam the cliff notes version of what the bartender had told him and Sam looked at the old man. "Is there anything else you can tell us?"

"I've already said too much," the old man answered.

Dean was about to argue when a high-pitched scream rang through the air.

He and Sam bolted upstairs with Marybeth on their heels.

When they reached the top, they saw that three of the people on the floor were out of their rooms and gathered around Tiffany in the hallway, who was weeping over a Spanish man's twisted and bloody body, most likely Carlos'.

Sam squeezed through the crowd to reach her. "Tiffany."

She ignored him and turned to the small crowd, crying, "Why is no one calling 9-1-1?!"

"None of our cell phones are working," the only woman out of the three explained.

There was both sympathy and fear in her voice.

Tiffany craned her neck to look back at Carlo's wide dead eyes and fresh tears sprung to her eyes. She shook and Sam touched her shoulder in comfort. She turned to him and accepted his embrace for comfort.

"Where's the manager?" a mid-thirties, army type man asked.

"He won't be any help," Dean told him. "He's either the reason that man is dead, or he's dead."

"We've got to get out of here," the woman decided.

"No!" Dean jumped to stop her. "You have to stay here. Something nasty is waiting by the door, trust me."

The army man stepped towards him. "What is it?"

"A spirit," Dean replied. "And believe me, it's out for blood."

The man laughed. "You've got to be joking. You can't think we're going to believe that."

"Do or don't believe, that's up to you," Dean huffed. "But I'm not joking."

The man eyed him, but eventually backed off.

"What are we supposed to do?" the other person, a skinny guy with glasses asked.

"Stay here," Dean answered. "My brother and I are going to find a way out."

He passed his gun to the army guy. "Here, you know how to use this. If you see anything besides me or Sam," he paused to nod at his brother, "Shoot it."

The army guy frowned, but after a few seconds nodded. "Alright. But if you two don't succeed in an hour, I'm leading the way out. And if you do anything suspicious I'm going to shoot you."

"Fair enough," Dean said.

He glanced at Sam and Sam stood and headed towards him. The woman took his place trying to comfort Tiffany.

"Dean, how are we going to find out how to put all the spirits to rest before an hour's up?" Sam hissed as they walked away.

Dean shrugged. "We'll just have to. He wasn't going to budge, Sam."

"What's the plan?" Sam inquired.

"Talk to the bartender again," Dean replied. "Convince him to spill."

* * *

"I can't," the old man refused. "You don't understand, they will kill me. Any past employee who knew and told someone else where the bodies were buried were killed."

"They know," Sam said.

"Yes, they know." The old man nodded. "They know destroying their corpses are they only why they can be forced to rest."

"How do you know this?" Dean asked.

"I researched it on that computer thing," the old man explained.

"Internet?" Sam guessed.

"Yes," the old man said.

Dean frowned. "So why didn't they kill you?"

"They knew I'd be too afraid to act," the old man told him. "I am old, feeble, slow. They'd kill me before I could even flip a lighter on."

"We can protect you," Sam rushed. "Please, we need your help to save everyone."

The old man closed his eyes. "I don't know why I am afraid to die, when dying would be a relief."

"You won't die," Sam said.

"Yes I will," the old man sighed. "But I will help you even though. I am sick of standing here, behind this counter; quiet, living in fear and guilt. Time I do the Navy proud one last time, I guess."

He opened the small wooden door closing off the back of the bar from guests, and joined Sam and Dean on the other side.

"Most of the bodies were buried in the graveyard out back," the old man said. "Others were buried in their hometowns."

"Well, that's helpful," Dean huffed.

"But we don't need to burn the bones if we find what is keeping them here," the old man told him.

"What's that?" Sam quizzed.

The old man turned to face him. "Not what, who. The spirits are controlled. I don't know how, but they have always been, it just took me a while to piece it all together."

"Do you know who's controlling them?" Sam inquired.

"It's Joseph."


	6. Controlling A Poltergeist Is Deadly

_Chapter 5: "Trying To Control A Poltergeist Is Deadly"_

* * *

"Where's his room?" Dean asked.

"The basement," the old man answered.

Dean shook his head. "Of course. Okay, then, let's visit Mr. Hill, shall we?" He gestured to the old man to lead the way.

The old man nervously did so, quietly leading the Winchesters into the lobby, through a door not far from the front door, and down a flight of stairs. Another door, and they were in the basement.

When the old man reached Joseph's bedroom door he hesitated before knocking. "Sir, it's Frank. We need to talk."

Frank glanced at the brothers, then back at the door while they waited, but there was no reply.

Sam knocked on the door harder than Frank had. "Mr. Hill. Can you come out?"

They waited about ten seconds longer but nobody came to the door and they hadn't heard anyone shuffling inside.

Dean and Sam looked at each other and Sam nodded.

Dean picked the lock with a paper clip and pushed the door open.

Frank gasped.

Joseph was lying bloody on the floor in the middle of the room with the only light in it coming from a dozen lit wax candles on his desk.

Dean squat beside Joseph's body while Sam examined the objects on his desk.

"He's been using his desk like an alter table," Sam told Dean.

Dean stood and walked over to it to look at the variety of objects on the table, the knives, the blood, the old book that looked similar to one a witch would own.

"So now we know how he was controlling the spirits," Dean said. "And from all the blood he was using and the spells, it looks like he was trying to control all of them, even the most powerful ones."

"Like the black mass," Frank thought out loud.

Sam nodded. "It must be a poltergeist taking form."

"Do you think he was a witch?" Dean inquired.

Sam shrugged.

"Well, either way, we need to burn the body," Dean decided. "Make sure he doesn't come back to haunt our asses."

Sam nodded and was about to pull a lighter and a bag of salt out of his jacket pockets when they heard a woman shriek.

He and Dean took off, running for the lobby with Frank following them as fast as his aged body let him.

When they reached the stairs, the Winchesters stopped in their tracks. At the bottom of the stairs leading to the second floor rooms, Marybeth lay face down on the ground, her hair covering her face soaked with blood.

"Is she dead?" a voice whimpered from above.

It was Tiffany.

She and the rest of the guests were standing in the spot Marybeth must have been thrown or jumped from, in front of the white banister, all frozen and shocked by the sight below them.

Sam approached Marybeth and squatted beside her to check for a pulse but she didn't have one.

He shook his head at Dean and Dean looked away. "Damn it."

Dean then glanced up at the other guests above. "What the hell happened here?"

Tiffany cried. "She jumped! Oh God, she jumped. We were all fine and then she asked me if I heard the voice too and she started acting crazy. She said she had to go, and took off."

"No one tried to stop her?" Sam asked.

The army man stepped forward. "I told the others to stay back. I went after her, and they didn't listen to me, but she threw herself off the stairs before any of us could grab her and pull her away from the edge."

"Do you know why she'd do that?" Tiffany inquired.

"My guess is the poltergeist got to her," Dean said. "And if that's so, now more than ever we need to stick together."

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for not updating sooner. Hope you're all still enjoying this story. **


	7. Don't Listen To The Voices In Your Head

_Chapter 6: "Don't Listen To The Voices In Your Head"_

* * *

"We should try the door again," Sam suggested. "With Joseph dead and the spirits free, maybe the doors have been released."

"Okay, we'll do that." Dean nodded and turned to the group. "But everyone has to stay close. No rushing for it."

Everyone agreed not to, and they slowly made their way to the front of the hotel, Sam leading and Dean taking position behind the others with their shotguns at ready.

Dean repeatedly looked over his shoulder, making sure nothing was following them.

They were almost at the door when the army man's head started twitching and he started mumbling.

"You okay man?" Dean inquired.

"Do it," the soldier muttered. "Do it, do it, right now."

Tiffany, who was beside him, glanced up at his face warily. "Ryan?"

Ryan moaned. "No. No. No. I will not."

"Will not what?" Dean asked.

Everyone had stopped now and Sam was twisting the door handle.

"It's not opening," he announced.

"Then we break a window," a balding man decided.

He picked up a chair that was by the door and threw it at the front window.

It should have broken the glass, but it didn't even leave a crack. The chair fell to the floor with a thump.

"Stop it!" Ryan shouted. He sounded furious.

He caught everyone's attention and they all stared at him.

"Take it easy man," Dean said cautiously.

He reached for the gun in Ryan's arms, the one he and Sam had left him when they'd gone looking for Joseph. Ryan saw and reacted, hitting Dean in the face with the but of the gun. Dean fell to the ground, knocked out, and Ryan made an inhuman roaring sound before charging into the group, causing everyone except Sam and Tiffany to fall to the ground.

Tiffany shrieked and Sam jumped into action, trying to pull Ryan out of the group. Ryan turned and threw punches at him and pushed him away. He was several inches shorter than Sam, but just as muscular, and quicker.

He reached for his gun but Sam stopped him from picking it up off the ground with a punch to his lower jaw. Ryan stumbled and fell on his back. Sam was going to kick the gun out of reach but Ryan grabbed his right ankle and pulled. Sam grunted and fell to his knees.

Ryan stood up in a flash and kicked Sam in the head before reaching down and picking up the gun and pointing it at the other guests.

Frank stood in front of the others and spread his arms out.

"You don't want to do this son," Frank said calmly. "Put the gun down."

Ryan shook his head. "No, no, no, no, no."

"Put the gun down," Frank repeated. "Before you do something you regret."

Ryan looked up at him, aimed and fired his gun.

Tiffany and the other woman in the group screamed as Frank dropped to the floor with a bullet in his chest.

Dean, who had just become conscious again, jumped to his feet, ripped the gun out of Ryan's grasp and knocked Ryan to the ground.

Ryan struggled to get away from Dean and when he managed to, he was holding the handgun Dean had in his jacket.

"I'm sorry," he said.

And then he shot himself in the head.

As Ryan's body slumped to the ground Dean turned to Sam, who was in the middle of standing, but obviously still dazed.

Dean reached out and steadied his brother. "You alright?"

Sam nodded. "I'll make it."

He glanced over at Frank's body and Dean did as well.

The other guests were by his side, terrified and upset. Tiffany had tears streaming down her face.

"We're all going to die," she said hopelessly.

"No we're not," Dean told her.

"Yes you are," a menacing voice said.

Everyone turned quickly to look in the direction the voice had come from.

Leaning on the front desk, Joseph waved and grinned at them before disappearing in a mist.


	8. Fight The Beast

_Chapter 7: "Fight The Beast"_

* * *

"Was that the owner?" the bald man inquired, stunned. "He's a ghost too?"

"He is now," Dean confirmed. "He was controlling the spirits here until one killed him a few hours ago."

"What?" Tiffany starred at him. "How?"

"That's not important right now," Dean told her. "What I want to know is how he is able to manifest only hours after his death."

"The other spirits," Sam suggested. "There are so many here. He must have fed off their energy and the deaths."

Dean nodded. "So he likely is the reason the doors won't open and he's probably still controlling the others."

"We need to get back to Joseph's body and burn it," Sam said.

Dean agreed.

He turned to the bald man. "Do you know how to shoot?"

The bald man nodded.

Dean passed him a shotgun and a handful of rocksalt bullets.

"Everyone stay here," he ordered. "Get in a corner and keep an eye out. See a ghost, shoot it."

The group did as told, and Sam and Dean raced to the stairs leading to Joseph's room.

Halfway down the stairs, Sam, who was behind Dean, was shoved. Falling he slammed into Dean, who began rolling too.

They hit the cement floor with thumps and grimaces.

They rolled onto their stomachs and pushed themselves up onto their feet to see Evelyn standing at the top of the stairway, where she had pushed Sam.

"We're trying to free you!" Sam yelled.

"I will not let you burn Joseph's body," Evelyn growled, ignoring him.

Dean shot at her, but she disappeared before the rocksalt could touch her.

Sam turned to open the door into the basement as Dean watched his back, gun raised.

Sam slipped through the door and Dean followed, both on alert.

Dean was reaching for the door to Joseph's room when he was slammed into.

A bulky man with a crew cut knelt over him and began punching him.

Sam aimed his gun at the spirit, but it was ripped out of his hands by Joseph, who smiled. "You two are going to make great company here."

"Not happening," Sam said.

He pulled an iron rod out of his jacket and swung it at Joseph, who dissolved on contact.

Racing over to Dean, Sam swung at the head of the spirit punching him and it disappeared.

Dean quickly got to his feet and they charged into Joseph's room, quickly throwing salt on his body and squeezing a bottle of lighter fluid over it.

Before Dean or Sam could throw a match on Joseph's remains half a dozen spirits, including Joseph and Evelyn, manifested and dragged them, on their backs, away from it.

Dean was thrown against a wall and Sam into a bureau. The flat screen standing on it rocked and fell over, missing Sam's head, but hitting into his shoulder.

Dean hit one of the spirits attacking him in the head with his gun, but it didn't do much. It did give him enough time to pull out the iron rod he was carrying though, and he was able to defend himself from the spirits kicking and punching him.

He fought to reach Sam, who was being ruthlessly beaten by three new spirits that had appeared, along with Joseph, but every time Dean swung at one ghost and it dissipated, a new one appeared in its place.

Luckily Sam was able to reach out and grab the rod he'd dropped on the floor when he was thrown. He fought back against his attackers with it, then pulled out his gun and began shooting at the ghosts farther away from him and ones about to reach Dean.

When only Joseph was left standing, he and the brothers faced off. He was standing in their way to his body.

Knowing he couldn't beat shotguns, Joseph disappeared, but only for a split second. He reappeared behind Sam as he prepared to light a match, knocking him over.

The odds were against him though. As he fought with Sam and Lucas, now one of the ghosts, manifested into the room, Dean pulled out the lighter he was carrying and after getting a flame, threw it onto Joseph's body.

Joseph's spirit howled and exploded. When he did, Lucas stopped and starred at them, confused, before disappearing on his own terms.

Sam stood and Dean glanced at him. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Sam said. He looked over at Joseph's burning body, watching as the rug underneath him caught on fire. "We need to get out of here."

He and Dean raced back upstairs to the guests they'd left in the lobby.

"Thank God you're okay!" Tiffany exclaimed.

"Try the doors!" Dean shouted.

The bald man turned and successfully opened it.

"Get out of here!" Dean commanded the group.

They didn't need to be told twice, but when the Winchesters didn't follow them out, Tiffany backtracked to the doorway.

"You coming?" she asked them.

"Go!" Sam yelled. "We'll be right out."

Tiffany hesitated, but listened, and ran away.

After she was gone, Dean and Sam ran back to their room upstairs, collecting their belongings before running back to the main entrance and out the front door.

The bald man was calling 911 on his now working cell phone when the Winchesters joined the group outside.

"The fire isn't going to burn down the whole building; not when it's in the basement," Sam noted as they stood beside the others. "Someone might restore it."

Dean nodded. "Then we need to act quickly, and make sure this place burns to the ground."

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for not having an update for so long. Hope this chapter makes up for it. 1 or 2 more to go. Let me know what you think. :)**


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